


steadily emerging with grace

by ElasticElla



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Dark, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff and Angst, Minor Character Death, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: “Wait, what does that even mean? To be a siren?” Clary asks.“You have divinity in your veins,” Isabelle says.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from blue foundation's eyes on fire
> 
> written for the ficathon, [come play \o/](http://ladygawain.livejournal.com/83816.html)

There's a tickle in the back of Isabelle's mind, and it's been so many years that she almost doesn't recognize it. _Prayer_. 

She closes her eyes, leans back on the day's rock, sun warming her skin and she listens. 

_Oh glorious one I call upon you. My daughter has been stolen by a man most foul. Please save her and feast upon his flesh. Anything you ask of me I shall give you for her safety._

_Anything?_ Izzy asks, feels the woman's shock and gratefulness slam into her. 

_Yes, yes! Thank you._

Isabelle focuses on the voice, a mundane image coming to mind. That doesn't make sense though, mundanes didn't know their ways wouldn't possibly create the proper alter or- ah. Izzy spots the faint glimmer around the woman. She had a warlock's protection. It's curious, curious enough that Izzy decides she would like this non-mundane to owe her a favor. 

Izzy reaches out, casts a wide net with her magic, toes tingling in the salt water. She takes the woman- Jocelyn- takes the images from her head and her energy. Keeping an ear on her heartbeat, Izzy dives into the water, swims faster than any other creature or petty boat. Isabelle drops her connection to Jocelyn when she reaches the right ship, faint echos of her exhaustion and thanks coming through the frayed bond. 

She climbs up the ship's side, there's no need to use magic yet, smiling at the awe-stuck man in the crow's nest. The white dress she wears has no concealing powers, especially soaking wet stuck against her skin, and in short order, the entire crew is hypnotized by her, motionless. 

“I seek Valentine and Clarissa,” she says, soft and soothing. “Where are they?” 

“Below deck, I shall take you,” a tall woman says and Isabelle takes her hand, touching just the forefront of her mind. 

“Thank you Midori.” 

As Midori leads her to them, Isabelle is increasingly suspicious. Everything is a little too polished, as if the boat were new, and there are no loose objects in the hallway for a makeshift weapon. She stops and Midori turns to her. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“What is my name?” she tries, a simple trick. 

Midori's eyebrows come together, “Miss Isabelle of course, here to see-”

And Isabelle is gone before she can finish, running upstairs and launching herself into the ocean. It isn't until salt water completely surrounds her that she feels safe again, glaring up at the ship’s underbelly. 

A shrill whistle, and she calls all nearby creatures- a few sea lions, a dolphin, a manatee, and bundles of fish. 

_Take them to my home and all but two shall be yours._

It's an unnecessary offer, she could easily kill them all within five minutes, but she likes swimming slow with her fellow ocean's creatures sometimes. They agree, turning the boat around, and Izzy drifts beside them listening to the panic above with a sharp smile. 

She was going to enjoy killing this one.

No one has ever tried to hurt her before, or _hunt_ her- for surely those that came to her island in boats and died before their feet ever touched land could not be called assassins. Misguided little sheep. 

Isabelle swims through the water lazily, could easily make it home and back a hundred times. This way though she gets gossip from the various creatures: of ships in odd places, of harpies feeding where they don’t belong, of new pirates creating a name for themselves. On a cheerier note, the sea otters have new pups, and Izzy makes a mental note to go visit the playful creatures. 

By the time they get to her island the ship's crew has made a decision, tossing a bound Valentine and Clarissa to the waves. 

_Enjoy_ , she directs to her helpers, bringing her two to land. Over the rocks and beach, she brings them to the small grass circle. It's beyond stunning, and the only noise that reaches her here is distant waves. She leaves the man alone for now, tied up and unconscious. 

“Clarissa,” she says, untying her bonds, “your mother sent me to aid you.” 

Clary looks around the island wildly, “Where is she? Is she okay?” 

“Easy, my name is Isabelle,” she says, but her charge does not soothe. “Your mother remains in your home. Have you seen death before?”

“What the- _no_. Why?” 

“The second half of your mother's deal was to kill him,” Isabelle says, her silver bracelet transforming into a whip.

“You can't do that!” Clary exclaims, grabbing Izzy's arm. “He's my father- please! Just let him leave on the boat.” 

Isabelle cocks her head, there's no question now that Clary must be at least half mermaid or siren. She's able to touch Izzy without losing herself, or throwing herself upon the ground in a religious fervor. 

“I have a deal with your mother, what can you offer me?” Izzy asks. 

Clary bites her lip, looking around again, more strategically this time. “I'll stay with you.” 

Isabelle's eyebrows raise, and two hints of pink appear in her cheeks. “You must get lonely out here all by yourself right?” 

Izzy decides not to correct her, “I suppose some company could be nice.” 

Clary grins, and then she remembers the sea lions. “Oh, you're certain you wish for him to live and sail away?” 

Clary nods, and Izzy pushes her thoughts out to the ocean, _Stop_. 

One of the sea lions complains, but they all stop, and their impressions show a ship that is certainly worse for wear and a few floating bodies. 

Valentine is awake when she turns to him, does not look panicked and has clearly been awake for far too long. She doesn't like it, but she doesn't like the idea of anyone leaving her island alive. 

She hands a knife to Clary, “You may free him.” 

Clary hacks at the ropes, awkward apologies on her lips. “I don't know why Mom freaked out like that. I swear I left her a note.”

Valentine frowns, “She never did let me visit you, I should have expected nothing had changed with your age. I am sorry for that Clarissa.”

Clary’s lips tighten, “I'm an adult now, she can't make those decisions for me.” 

They walk him to the ship, Valentine falling thrice as he tries to navigate the slippery rocks. Isabelle laughs silently, careful not to meet Clary’s eyes. The ship isn’t looking much better than the impressions Izzy already saw, but at least the bodies have been taken away. 

Clary is ignoring it, or didn’t notice anything amiss in the first place as she wishes her father farewell. He swims out to his ship, a rope tossed down by one of the surviving crew. 

“You know he is not a good man?” Isabelle asks, Clary waving to the ship. 

Clary rolls her eyes, “Yes, I know he's a pirate. That doesn't mean he should die.” 

Isabelle shrugs, extending a hand, “Come, I'll show you the island.” 

Isabelle has never had a guest before, meets friends in the water where she's near-invincible. It's an exciting prospect to show someone around, to get to brag about the ideal island.

She starts at the top of the rocks, Clary breathing a little harder. “From here you can see all but my caverns.”

Clary looks down at the perfect circle of green, “There's no shade- why?”

“I like the sun upon my skin,” Izzy says, smirking at Clary's eyes widening. “And were a danger to ever find me, my island would give them no shelter nor hiding place.” 

“What about the caverns?” Clary asks.

Izzy grins, “You'll see.” 

They climb down again, Clary only slipping once, has already gotten a knack for navigating the tricky rocks. 

“How long have you lived here?” she asks.

“A hundred shipwrecks,” Isabelle says flippantly. 

Clary laughs, the sound echoing around the basin as Izzy leads her to the west side of the island. “Impressive. But how long does that take?” 

She shrugs, “I don't keep track of time like mundanes do. There's never been a need.” 

Clary accepts that, and Isabelle is thankful, does not wish to open up old scars today. The girl gasps when they reach the cavern's entrance, a clear pool of green water. 

“Why does it look like that?” 

Izzy smiles, stepping in, warm water reaching her waist. “Magic. Come.” 

And Isabelle turns, is through the pool in four steps and up on the other side before she looks back. Clary is only halfway there, but she's moving. Gritting her teeth, Clary makes it through minutes later, and Isabelle helps her stand. 

“That would definitely slow down any intruders,” Clary says with a wry smile. 

“Only sirens can walk through. You are not used to your powers, so it slowed you.” 

Clary's laugh is strangled, “Me? I'm not- I would know if I were a siren. My singing in the shower would have been way more traumatic for those around me, right?” 

Izzy smiles, “Magic does not lie. Perhaps you are just presenting late?” 

“Yeah that's… did you know? Before?” Clary suddenly asks. 

Izzy shrugs, leading her into the caves. “I suspected you were a mermaid- far less rare than us sirens.” 

“Wait, what does that even mean? To be a siren?” 

“You have divinity in your veins,” Isabelle says. 

There are two caves, and she points to the left one first, “Clothing, bedding to the right.” 

“A whole cave for clothing?” Clary says, peeking her head in. She turns to Izzy a moment later with wide eyes, “Why are there like a billion white dresses in there?” 

“Try a thousand,” Izzy corrects with a laugh, and Clary's expression becomes even more incredulous. “The Iron Sisters create them for me, bring them every year. I protect their isles and they create anything I need.” 

“Annnd you hate colors?” Clary asks. 

“White is most effective.” Izzy says, continuing on before she can ask, “There's dye in the corner if I'm feeling colorful.” 

“Cool,” she says, and Izzy notices the slight shiver. 

Grabbing the nearest dress, she says, “You aren't acclimated to the cold or wet yet, you should change. I'll be in the other cave.” 

“Thanks,” Clary says, and Isabelle leaves. The bedding cave is as it sounds, the entire floor covered in thick mattresses, four deep. Atop them are blankets and comforters and pillows, enough that even if Isabelle felt the cold, winter itself could not touch her here. She finishes drying off outside, toweling her hair, and climbs in. 

Clary joins her a little while later, looking every bit the siren she is. “Wow,” Clary whispers. “From the iron women?” 

Isabelle smiles, “The sisters yes. Use whatever you wish.” 

Clary picks a spot opposite her, their faces a few feet away. She collects mostly pillows, and Isabelle is drifting off to sleep as it strikes her as something. 

.

Isabelle wakes alone, reaches out with her magic instinctively. Clary is in the next cave, and Isabelle pads over there, curious. She finds her seated with a dozen freshly colored gowns around her. They're all gorgeous, mostly jewel toned, and Izzy's lips twitch as Clary notices her and freezes. 

“I couldn't sleep and wanted to draw and then I remembered the dyes you mentioned. Is this okay?” 

Isabelle's nails click on her hip, “As long as I get to wear the silver-purple one today.” 

Clary breathes a sigh of relief, handing her the dress. “Thank you.” 

Isabelle changes into the dress then, saying, “Thank _you_. You're welcome to play with the rest, just save oh, three hundred plain.” 

Clary lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head and standing. “So what now?” 

Isabelle grins, “How would you like to learn to use your powers?” 

An hour later, Isabelle is ready to tear out her own hair, and Clary isn't doing much better. There's something _off_ with Clary, like a block. She can access her speed for swimming but that's all. After trying a dozen or so exercises, Isabelle remembers Jocelyn had been cloaked somehow. Doubtless she had done something to Clary, she thinks with a frown. The only question was if it was reversible, or if it might crumble with time. 

“How would you like to see your mother?” Isabelle asks, instinctively hating the plan but knowing it's necessary. 

“Really?” Clary asks, excited. “I'd love to but I didn't want to break my offer.” 

“You'll come back,” Isabelle says, easily as if the opposite thought didn't worry her. “You should tell her I took your deal in place of hers, and ask what magic has been used on you.” 

“Mag- she doesn't know anything about _magic_ ,” Clary says. And then her eyes scrunch shut, and she nods. “Okay.” 

Isabelle doesn't follow her home, she only has one home and will not risk her life for another. She spends the day laying on a rock, salt drying on her skin and dress. She doesn't feel like hunting or swimming, is enjoying watching the clouds roll by and picking out shapes. 

As dusk falls, there is a screech getting ever louder as one approaches. Isabelle quiets the ocean's creatures as she takes impressions from them, Clary cutting through the water far swifter than how she practiced. The cause comes quickly- smoke in the air, some seagulls saw the house go up in flames, and the thick scent of burning flesh.

Ah. And Jocelyn's reasoning for killing him becomes apparent. (Isabelle can't help but briefly wonder why the woman didn't tell her, she would have ignored all the girl offered.)

Clary slams into her, gripping her arms tightly. “I need you to teach me how to sing.” 

“Clary,” she begins. 

“No! I'm sure, I want him _dead_! He fooled me the first time I let him free, and again when I didn't think he'd go after her. He won't live for a third attempt. I thought- I thought she'd be safe with Luke.” 

Isabelle blinks, “Your energy is low, you are not used to this life. I will teach you in the morning.” 

Clary jerkily nods, hands shaking on Izzy's arms. “Good. Thank you.” 

And Isabelle isn't sure, thinks it might be too much, too soon. To start so late in one's life and with a fresh death… Izzy shakes her head, climbing over the rocks to home. Tomorrow she would find out, either way. 

.

When Isabelle wakes up, Clary is sitting across from her in a new gray dress and has another beside her in a bright red. 

“Singing lessons?” 

Isabelle chuckles, changing into the dress. “Aren’t we the eager beaver?” 

Clary nods, and Izzy walks with her to the shore. She thought in the morning Clary might cool down, might decide murder isn’t the answer. It’s a good sign, Izzy knows it, and she briefly imagines how her mentor would have taught Clary. A disaster, she decides, pushing the thoughts away. 

The water is warm, the rock more-so and Izzy could fall back asleep already. 

“So how do I do it?” Clary asks, sitting beside her. 

“You need to tell a story with your song, that is what traps the listener. The words don't matter, the emotion does. You reel him in with that, and you can make him drown himself.” 

Clary doesn't flinch at her casual words, only asking, “And how do I do that?” 

“Once he is under song, you will be able to handle his mind and simply command whatever you wish. It's easier to learn by doing than knowing,” she explains. 

Clary smiles, “Have you taught someone before?”

Izzy's sharp, “No,” comes out too fast to be anything but a lie, and she tacks on, “Why?” 

Clary shrugs, “You're good at it.” 

She relaxes a bit, “Now keep your feet in the water, salt water helps carry your message every direction and we don't know where he is yet.” 

“What if I bring in the wrong person?” Clary suddenly asks. 

Isabelle laughs softly, “It's like fishing. Catch and release until you find your prize.” 

Clary nods, closing her eyes, and Izzy adds, “One last thing- since you want a specific person, use specific emotions- in this case the words might help you channel them.”

“Got it,” Clary says, and then she begins to sing. Her previous block is seemingly gone, and Izzy wonders if her mother’s death removed it. 

Isabelle hasn't heard another siren sing since her mentor Maia, can't help but wonder what became of her. Last Iz knew, Maia was traveling on _land_ with Gretel, trying to find a way to turn her lover immortal.

Clary's voice sounds nothing like Maia's, sounds more like a challenge being thrown into the wind. Izzy lets her scream for a while, figures at the very least it might make Clary feel better. She slips into the water, and with the buffer she can almost deceive her ears into thinking her song is pretty. It does have a beauty to it- like broken glass, and Izzy knows that kind of song can bring more sailors than she ever expects. (She never feels guilty over killing the twisted ones, the ones that wanted her in pain.) 

The first boat that comes is wrong, and Izzy sends it away before Clary can ask how to. Another lesson, one that was not for today. The next one is wrong, and the next one, and the next, and the sun has past being high in the sky, the water's surface has begun to cool as the right boat comes in. 

“He will come now,” Clary says, crossing her legs. Izzy hops back up on the rock, sitting beside her. 

“I'm here,” Izzy says, and Clary shoots one last smile at her before focusing on the man swimming towards them. 

He treads water a few feet from them, and Izzy thinks of the different ways she could kill him. Her whip would be easiest, or she could cast her own song to overpower Clary's, or there are a few nearby carnivores who would be happy to help out. 

“Why did you kill her?” Clary asks, fingers tense on her knees. 

Valentine smiles, warning bells going off in Izzy's head, “She was a monster- as are both of you!” 

He throws two knives, and Isabelle deflects one with her whip, the other landing where Clary just was. She looks to the water, and there's a wild flash of red hair and teeth, broken words and screams. 

Isabelle doesn't interrupt, knows better than to disturb a siren in a rage, and Valentine's heart is beating out, his blood spilling into the ocean. Clary tears his neck out, chewing, eyes alight with vengeful pleasure. 

Izzy's own throat goes dry as it hits her that Clary might be far more receptive to a siren's diet than she expected. 

Clary doesn't come out of it, not even when there's naught but entrails and bones left, and Izzy guides her to shore. She carries her over the rocks, lays her out on the grass and waits. There's a rabbit cloud and then a dolphin and then a dragon, and then Clary's back. 

“Oh god, what did I do?” Clary asks, clutching her stomach. 

“Breathe. You were hungry and angry, your instincts took over,” Izzy says, turning onto her stomach to face Clary. She mimics her with a wince, wiping her mouth. 

“Instincts? That was normal?” she asks. 

Isabelle nods, “Mundanes are our diet, especially bad ones. We were created to help cleanse evil from the earth.” 

Clary looks properly awed instead of disgusted or wary, and Isabelle is pleased. If only Max- no. She wasn't going to think about them. 

“The connection I had to him was so overwhelming, is it always like that?” Clary asks, and Isabelle is grateful for the new subject. 

“The short answer is yes,” Izzy says. 

“And the long answer?” she asks. 

Izzy grins, settling her chin into her hands. “There are three types of mental bonds, the bond with prey is always rather intense. You hold their life in your hands. You can make them do or tell you anything.” 

“How was my- Valentine able to throw the knives?” Clary asks. 

“There are two possibilities- one, he faked being under your thrall in the first place to approach without suspicion. Or two, having been with your mother he devised some way to avoid it.” 

Clary sighs, “I can’t imagine my mother helping him.”

“Not even if she loved him once?” Izzy asks. 

Clary frowns, “I suppose… you said there were three bonds. Tell me about the other two.” 

“There is the connection to all creatures of the sea, you can communicate with their minds and get flashes of what they see. They do not _have_ to do what you ask them, octopuses are notoriously unreliable, but most will if you ask nicely or threaten.”

Clary giggles, “Sorry, I just- _octopuses_ being rebels, who would have guessed?” 

“Not me,” Isabelle confesses, her lips quirking up into a smile. “When I was young and perhaps a little cocky, my mentor sent me to collect ink from an octopus as a punishment.”

“No,” Clary whispers with glee, hands covering her mouth. 

“Yeah,” Izzy says, shaking her head at the memory. “The ink wouldn't get out of my hair for days.”

Clary giggles, “And the last?” 

“Devotees, they're rare.” Isabelle pauses and Clary jumps in. 

“That's what my mom did?” 

“Yeah. Non-sirens, or past sirens apparently, can communicate through alters and prayers. They offer their strength, and willingly open a channel of their mind to communicate with us.” 

Clary's eyebrows furrow, “I don't understand. Why wouldn't more people do that?” 

“Besides needing to know how to make a proper alter and having to acquire very rare materials- there's no guarantee a siren will grant your prayers. Through the link, no matter what being they are or where they are, you can kill them.” 

Clary is looking a little queasy, “That's…”

“She loved you,” Isabelle says, even manages to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Hold onto that.” 

Clary blinks wetly a few times, pushing past it. “So what about sirens bonding to each other? 

“Not possible. It's to keep an even playing field. The legends say it's so sirens fall in love with each other and never wish to abandon their immortal lives,” Izzy says.

Clary looks up at the sky with a faint smile, “That sounds nice.” 

Isabelle doesn't correct her, let's her have the rose-tinted glasses for now. She _just_ became a siren after all. She doesn't need to think about the real reason likely being that for whenever a siren's lover dies, they would raze the entire earth for them. 

.

The next morning they swim with sea otters, Clary practicing connecting to them. She drops her lines too easily, is distracted by input from her own senses and the otters'. Izzy doesn't particularly mind, sunbathing on a nearby rock with two otter pups playing on her stomach. The pups chase her finger until they tire, cuddling up with her hand. 

It takes Clary the whole day, and in the end she still hasn't mastered the technique. Izzy shakes her head at her as they climb over the rocks to home. 

“Tomorrow we'll try again with subjects far less cute,” she declares. 

Clary fake groans, “But the otters are so fun!” 

“Mhmm, exactly. We'll visit the jellyfish.” 

Clary pouts, and she feels compelled to add, “If you're successful, you'll practice at a range and call over the otters.” 

Clary grins wide, “That’s incentive.” 

.

The jellyfish go well, and the distance otters go well, and Clary's stomach is rumbling one morning when she asks about perfecting the prey connection. 

“First, no color today,” Isabelle says as they walk into the closet. Izzy hasn't been here recently, Clary enjoyed picking out matching or contrasting dresses and she wasn't about to stop her. The sight that greets her is unexpected as it is beautiful- her once simple closet turned into a glorious array of colors. There's a corner of pristine white dresses, and her fingers tremble over a glorious indigo and black gown. 

“Marvelous,” she murmurs, forcing her feet to continue past. 

Clary smiles, face heating, “Thanks.” 

They change and head out, Izzy teaching her as they go. “Before every hunt you must decide what your goal is, otherwise you'll get pulled too deeply into the hunt, become lost in it until death.” 

Clary shivers, doubtlessly thinking of when she killed Valentine, of how invincible she felt. 

“Are you going for quality or quantity? Do you wish to dine on a mass murderer or would you rather a crew of pirates?” Isabelle asks. 

“A crew,” Clary answers easily. 

“How many? Ten? Twenty? Fifty? More?” 

Clary's eyes go wide, and she turns to Isabelle as they enter the water. “What do you think?” 

“You've never sung for more than one, two ships of ten would be a good start,” Izzy says. Clary's nose crinkles and she adds, “You have infinity to perfect your skills. There's no need to start with a juggernaut.” 

“What should I sing?” Clary asks with a small smile. “I'm guessing anger won't work for an entire crew.” 

Izzy chuckles, “Not the average one. Lust is easy if you're comfortable with it. Loneliness connects to many sailors, as does gold and greed.” 

Clary nods, and Izzy hops up on her favorite rock, Clary following. 

She begins singing, and Izzy _burns_. There are no words, but the pure longing she pushes into each note has her nails biting into her palms. Thankfully there's a nearby ship of eight that hears her, and the intensity dulls as Clary focuses only on them. (Izzy tries to remember if listening to Maia ever affected her so strongly- but Maia had been a master when they met, only directed her song at those she wanted.)

The eight dive into the water, swim to her like she’s their salvation. None of them are particularly strong swimmers, and Izzy relaxes a bit, they’re ordinary pirates. The last thing today’s lesson needed was how to torture hunters for information and destroy all evidence. 

Clary’s song hesitates, a few of them nearly coming back to themselves. “Tell them to meet you at the bottom of the ocean,” Izzy softly suggests. 

Clary slips back into the water to do that, diving deep, and Izzy follows. Seven come immediately, swimming deeper and deeper, losing their last breath one by one. Isabelle searches out the eighth, finds him with a slit neck and wrists. He at least knew what was coming, but it was a myth that sirens wouldn’t dine on suicides. (In fact she was pretty sure a lazy siren had created that myth.)

Izzy eats a thigh, calling on some carnivorous fish to finish him off. Clary comes back to the rock a while later, a few limbs in her wake and blood on her chin. 

She hops up, brows furrowed, “Why did you only have one?” 

“When your powers first emerge, you need to eat more to keep up with them. Since yours were suppressed, I think you need even more than the average young siren,” Izzy says. 

Clary scowls, and Izzy wipes the blood from her chin. “It’ll adjust soon enough. Try again.” 

This time Clary sings of hunger and satisfaction, and unsurprisingly a small fishing boat is attracted. It stops a few waves away as Clary falls silent, and Isabelle figures redirecting ships is important too. 

“Alright, so now you’re going to send them away and make them forget about you and this island,” she says. 

Clary’s lips twitch, “Catch and release?” 

Isabelle snorts, “Yeah.” 

A few men whistle, and Izzy ignores them. “Make sure you’re well connected to whoever is steering the boat, tell them to leave and never come back and forget all about today.” 

Clary’s eyes close as she sings again, of going to a new place, the boat turning away. And then something on the ship must distract her- the melody turning jarring, the boat swinging around again. 

“Clary,” Isabelle warns, but Clary doesn’t turn to her, has all her focus on the ship that’s rapidly approaching the rocky shoreline. Her eyes open at the crash, a grim smile on her lips. 

“I might have lost control,” she says impishly. “One of them wouldn’t forget us.” 

“Back to shore,” Isabelle says with a sigh, “we’ll talk theory in the grass.” 

Clary grins, too high on her destruction to notice the tone. “Race you!” 

And the girl has taken off before Isabelle responds. Impertinent chit, she thinks fondly, and is drying in the grass before Clary’s feet touch land. 

“How’d you do that?” Clary asks when she joins her. “You swam so _fast_.” 

Isabelle grins, “I didn’t use any of my energy today crashing ships. It’s a good lesson- even if it’s in your mind, these things take energy.” 

Clary nods, and Isabelle continues. “Why do you think we go after bad people?” 

“There’s more of them in the ocean?” Clary answers. 

“Cheeky. No, because their kind are less likely to care about what happens to them. If a band of pirates goes missing, it’s karma. If a fishing boat goes missing, it’s a tragedy. Tragedies launch hunts and discovery,” Isabelle explains. 

Clary goes pale, “Is- is someone going to find us?” 

“Maybe, maybe not. There’s always that risk, so we try to minimize it. No survivors with memory, and fates less likely to be cared for,” she says. 

“I’m so sorry,” Clary says, eyes down. “I just- their thoughts about you were _awful_ and I wanted them dead.” 

“It’s okay, you know now. And worst case, we’ll move to a new island,” Izzy says. “So,” she starts in a happier tone now that she’s sure Clary won’t pull such a stunt again, “what are today’s questions?” 

Clary looks up, relieved, and asks, “Why is it easier to enthrall without words? I lost more when I used them.” 

“Mhmm,” Izzy says, rolling her shoulders. “Any disparity between your words and emotions creates a loophole of sorts for the ensnared. Without words, there’s only pure emotion directing them, impossible to escape as long as your melody holds.”

Clary nods, a curious look on her face. “How do you know all of this? From your mentor?” 

“Parts,” Izzy says with a shrug. “I’ve done plenty of experiments to discover what’s most effective.” 

“Do you know what happens if you don’t eat?” Clary asks. 

“You die,” Isabelle answers simply, looking up to the skies. An apple, a fish, a tower. 

“Oh, sorry,” Clary says quietly, and Maia had always told her opening up was good for the soul or whatever. 

“I had a younger brother once, Max.” Isabelle says, “He came to the island when my mentor, Maia was visiting the Iron Sisters. I knew Maia would have made me send him back home, and I was so glad to see him again, I didn’t think about why. I was just glad she wasn’t there.

“He liked swimming with the sea lions and dolphins, making up shapes in the clouds. He loved swimming and living here, and decided he wanted to become a siren too.” 

Isabelle pauses, can’t speak about the next part. About warlocks and siren creation, about Max giving up his ability to age to become one of them. 

She shakes her head, “Once he turned, he refused to eat human flesh, certain the magic would keep him alive. It didn’t.” 

“Oh god, Izzy I’m so sorry,” Clary says, wrapping her up in a hug. And Isabelle lets herself feel, lets herself think of her family that died many moons ago, tears dripping down her cheeks. 

.

Izzy is floating in the morning, woke before Clary for once and picked out her favorite indigo and black dress. She never told anyone about Max before, Maia had filled in enough of the blanks not to ask and since her, she’s been alone. 

She sends her net out again, and as since the day Maia left with Gretel, not one of the ocean’s creatures has seen her. It has to be a good sign- if she had failed, Maia would be tearing up every ship she could find. (Unless… but no, Maia is too strong, land or sea, she would survive.)

She’s happy, Isabelle realizes suddenly. It’s been so long since she felt the emotion firsthand, but there it is- Clary makes her happy. 

Think of the siren, Isabelle thinks to herself as Clary approaches in an emerald green gown. She doesn’t stumble once as she runs down the rocks, a giddy smile on her face. 

“Morning,” Izzy greets, and Clary cuts through the ocean and pops up before her, treading water.

“You woke up first,” Clary accuses with a grin. 

“I did,” Isabelle agrees, warmth curling in her stomach. 

“What if I’d gotten lost coming out here?” Clary asks, eyes dancing. 

Izzy exhales, “Ha! Then you wouldn’t belong here.” 

“But I do,” Clary says tentatively, licking her lips. “Belong.” 

Smiling, Isabelle cups her face, and Clary inches closer to the rock. “Yes.” 

And Clary leans up to kiss her, a hand weaving into her hair and another on her leg. She tastes like morning dew, and Isabelle pulls her up into her lap, not breaking their kiss for a single breath.

.

Everything is going well, nearly too well when the boat appears and Isabelle remembers her mother’s words about monsters not getting happily ever afters. Izzy reaches out to a whale, and there’s a man on board that knows her new love, is searching for Clary. She thinks about it, for the briefest moment, of crashing the ship and letting their little bubble of bliss survive untested. 

But then there’s a cloud in the sky, a dog, and Isabelle wakes Clary up from her impromptu nap. 

Her eyes catch the far-off ship quickly, a grin on her lips, “Dinner?” 

Izzy shakes her head, “There’s a man searching for you- Luke?”

The playful smile falls off her face, “I should- yes. I’ll go talk to him.” 

“We’ll swim to him then,” Izzy says, “I’ll hold the crew as you two talk.” 

Clary takes a deep breath, “Yeah. Thanks Izzy.” 

Their talk starts with quite a bit of shouting, accusations flung every which way. It’s only Clary yelling though, demanding to know how her mother died and then not liking the excuse that Valentine created a diversion. (A hundred dead seems more than a mere diversion, but Izzy isn’t about to interrupt them.)

Clary calms down the more Luke talks, apologizing for exploding earlier. “I just- I thought she’d be safe because you were there.” 

Luke’s eyes are hollow, “Me too kid.” 

“Are you going to be okay?” Clary asks, voice soft. 

Luke shakes off the question, “Your mother found a way to lock away her powers, to be good. I know the warlock who did it, we can see him if you’d like.”

Isabelle’s stomach twists, but Clary’s eyes harden, and she relaxes at that. “I can’t be a mundane again, and you want to take being a siren from me? What would I even be?” 

Luke sighs, “I’m too late. You’ve already eaten flesh.”

Clary’s smile is cruel, “Valentine had to pay for what he did.” 

“Dear lord,” Luke mutters softly. “If you ever change your mind Clary-” 

“I won’t,” she interrupts simply. 

His eyes pinch closed, “Then get off my ship.” 

Isabelle stands at that, doesn’t like the almost threatening tone, but Clary’s shaking her head. “Bye Luke.”

And Isabelle yanks the memories from all but Luke as she dives back into the water with Clary. Clary swims fast, doesn’t stop until they’re back at their customary rock. 

“Hey, hey- what do you need?” Izzy asks. 

Clary swallows, rubbing her eyes, “Can we go play with the otter pups?” 

Isabelle nearly laughs, had expected mass destruction or something of the sort. “Yeah, let’s go see how much they’ve grown.” 

And hand in hand, they swim over to the pups.


End file.
